


A Sarah Walker Story

by orphan_account



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not very good, just testing out the site. A story which may or may not be super confusing, where Sarah struggles with having feelings for two men. And character death is a very minor theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sarah Walker Story

A Sarah Walker Story

 

“We’re sorry, Agent Walker.”

  
You’ve heard that before, in a thousand contexts. The infamous “We”, that offers condolences and apologies in the name of who, exactly? The CIA? The NSA?  
It doesn’t matter. You’re tired of hearing it.

  
You don’t acknowledge that anyone said a word to you. Biting your tongue, you turn on your heel and go to the place you used to call home.

 

Rewind.

 

The air between you and your partner is bitter, it has been ever since you read the report on your former partner/lover’s death, clearly stating that the man behind the trigger was one Major John Casey.

  
It’s funny how trust can be shaken before it ever exists.

However, it’s arguable that the tension started before that, with a rookie agent (you) who didn’t appreciate having her split-second judgement criticized by a more experienced agent from a more ruthless agency (Casey) on her first high stakes, out of country mission.

The enmity doesn’t bother the major.

 

There’s a nerd with a dorky laugh and an inability to hide his feelings for you. You fall for him somewhere between meeting him and your first fake date.  
Casey knows. Doesn’t comment. You don’t want him to.

 

You’re sitting at a bar in Malibu after a quick drop at a low key casino. It’s the first time all three of you go for drinks together outside of a mission.  
Chuck is congratulatory and at ease. Casey is guarded and tense. You’re somewhere in between. It doesn’t sit right.

You surmise that compatibility is a rare commodity in the spy world (Bryce and you were lucky).

 

The car explodes. As far as you know, Chuck is in the trunk. Your eyes are more watery then they should be.

For once, Casey’s expression isn’t disapproving (the usual, whenever he witnesses a display of affection for Chuck on your part). For once, you don’t care what Casey thinks anyway.

You could call it progress. You could also call it an imbalance of affection and apathy.

 

You sometimes can’t stand the sight of him, but other times… you’re not sure what you’re feeling during the other times. He’s not the type of person you’ve ever preferred. Hard and callous contrasts plainly with your running type – dashing, classically handsome, brave, romantic sorts of guys (although you’re starting to lean towards Star Wars obsessed computer geeks whose most surprising charm is their lack of it).

He’s a fixture in your life, and you’ve accepted that. But he happens to be an unstable, detached fixture. That’s harder to accept.

 

It’s all too easy to blame destiny for the messy things in life. Unless you don’t believe in destiny. Which you don’t.

Your particular mess? An unprofessional attachment to a government asset and a slough of you don’t even know what emotions regarding your partner.

You know one thing. It would have been easier to fall for Casey. While both of the primary men in your life are somewhat off-limits, Casey is less so (counting the side effects of your career and discounting the cooperation of the involved parties).

Now you’re left to wonder why you ever thought of Casey as an option (you don’t like him, remember?).

 

Things with Chuck are more complicated than ever now that you’ve both cleared the air and admitted your feelings (life altering career choices and abandonment at train stations and cold reunions ensue).

You don’t know exactly when it happens but your interactions with Chuck become the confusing ones, and the ones with Casey begin to make sense.

There always has to be something amiss.

 

You want what you can’t have, and what you can have, you don’t want. The grass is always greener on the other side. Think about that. You might have solved your puzzle. Most people (you) really are that simple.

 

Casey almost dies because you threw him out of a window. No, it’s deeper than that. Casey almost dies because you’re in love with Chuck and you’re willing to do anything to get his mother back, including faking going rogue and burying yourself deep in a billion dollar criminal organization. Casey almost dies because he doesn’t try to stop you – doesn’t try to come up with a “better way” that spares him any side effects. Casey almost dies because he actually cares about two unusually emotional agents who are (at the moment) in love, even though when he’s out of a coma he’ll say it was for his country (you know he’ll come out of the coma because he’s not one to die that peacefully).

 

It’s over a year into your relationship (Chuck’s hardly being discreet about the soon coming proposal) when you run. You’re somewhere between eighty and ninety percent sure that you love Chuck. But you’re one hundred percent sure that you’ll never be satisfied until you’ve tried things without him.

You conspicuously place a note that tells him you’re leaving and you don’t know if or when you’re coming back – it tells him not to wait for you too long. You know he’ll wait.

 

Here’s where the problem lies. You lost yourself somewhere between your mother leaving and your father’s first arrest. The CIA hasn’t exactly helped you find yourself.

You’ve been questioning yourself ever since.

 

You try to become someone better. A woman who doesn’t shoot guns and doesn’t have complex fake relationships, who doesn’t keep secrets and gets a manicure every week.

It lasts for a week before you’re back to missions and complicated relationships with a walking computer and a stone cold colonel. The former has a million questions that he doesn’t ask and instead he covers your mouth with his own to see if you’re still his (which you are, for now). The latter raises an eyebrow and tosses you a black duffle full of unloaded guns (“New mission, we fly to Budapest at six.”).

Maybe someone else isn’t necessarily someone better. You never thought of that.

 

You make a hundred choices on a daily basis – eggs or toast, gun or knife, evening with Chuck or stake out with Casey. You wish you didn’t always lean towards the latter options. Toast is just empty calories, knives are less accurate, and Casey isn’t your fiancé.

Maybe it’s not just about who you like more, but it’s also about what territory they come with. With Chuck it’s family and laughter and hugs from behind. With Casey it’s long silences and mutual understanding of boundaries and no pressure to operate outside of a government agent’s normal way. You’ve been trained to prefer the second – but even worse, you’ve been trained to avoid the first.

Your survival instincts are kicking in.

 

By now you’ve accepted that you’re awful at handling emotional turmoil. It’s only more apparent when you accept a three month mission with Casey, without Chuck. You’re not supposed to do that.

Nothing happens. You grow apart from the man who loves you, but nothing happens.

What were you expecting? John Casey doesn’t love people. You should have known better. You should have stayed with Chuck.

You could always go back, but somehow that doesn’t seem like the answer. You go back, though, because you can’t just say “See you in three months, Chuck” and disappear indefinitely.

 

He’s grown out his facial hair and slightly improved his cooking skills. Nothing else is different.

You kiss him for the first time in months and you remember, for that moment, why you loved him.

 

The CIA tells you to pack your bags and brush up on your German. The CIA also tells you to say goodbye to significant others, because you may or may not see them again.

Chuck is devastated, asks you to quit, asks you to say no.

You try to explain that the CIA has been your life since you were a teenager, and that a German organization is on the verge of starting some kind of international chaos.

You say goodbye, and you leave the engagement ring on the nightstand. You feel a pull in your chest. It reminds you that Chuck means (or meant) more to you than anyone ever has before. But you still leave.

You leave Chuck. You leave Casey, too, but he doesn’t ask you to stay. He doesn’t even return your goodbye.

Germany is ahead of you and two men who you’ll never be able to shake off are behind you. Things could be worse – you could have spent all of high school studying Mandarin instead of German.

 

Fast forward.

 

“Sarah?”

You are relieved that Chuck’s voice hasn’t changed. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“A lot of things. But specifically, about Casey…” he trails off, head dropping noticeably. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I didn’t think a bullet could do it. I thought it would take a full out air strike. Even then, I thought he’d pull through.”

“He died the way he wanted to,” Chuck says, eyes sad but he’s clearly had plenty of time to come to terms with everything. You only just found out. “He told me that a bullet to the head was one of the best ways for a marine to go.”

“Of course he’d say that.”

“Yeah. The three of us used to be something, didn’t we?”

You suddenly feel like you don’t belong. Here you are, talking to your ex fiancé that you left over muddled feelings and a mission in Germany, who you’ve barely spoken to in the last two years, because a mutual ex partner was killed by some machine gun waving terrorist. “Yeah. Look, I’d better go…”

“If you want to.” He’s learned to let you come and go, apparently. Learned that you don’t want to be begged to stay. “But it’s a long way from here to Germany. You’re welcome to stay.”

You think for a second.

And then you offer a watery smile, and walk through the door.

 

End


End file.
